


Chronology

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Kill Bill (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1627193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elle lives, and dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chronology

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lavode

 

 

When Elle was eight years old, she killed a boy on the playground. It wasn't accidental, a stumble and push from the top of the slide. It wasn't done in a burst of anger, a shove down a hill immediately regretted. When Elle was eight years old, a boy sneered in her direction, so she knocked him to the ground, pulled a small blade from her boot, and carefully cut his throat.

Before the teacher could rush over to hear the boy's last bubbling breath, Elle was gone, wiping the knife on her skirt as she ran.

\--

When Elle was thirteen years old, she chopped all of her hair off and moved across the country. She had been a drifter for some time, sleeping under doorways and stealing food from five-star restaurants, but her shock of blonde locks made her far too visible. Besides, New York was too fucking cold. She locked herself in a filthy gas station bathroom and hacked away at her hair, her pale skin stretched over thin bones blue under the fluorescent light.

Elle left for the trainyards, leaving a halo of soggy yellow hair on the grimy tile floor.

\--

When Elle was sixteen years old, she fucked her first boy. Her hair had grown long again, and he clutched at it as she moved over his body. He was rougher than she'd expected, his body grungier and his motions heavier, and as she rolled off of him she recoiled suddenly in disgust. She turned to him, shaking her head and reaching for her jacket.

Another dead body, another spreading pool of blood as Elle stood smiling above. She spit into the gutter as she walked toward the street.

\--

When Elle was nineteen years old, she fucked her first girl. Elle had crept into a designer boutique to steal new clothes, and as she slipped into the silvery dress in the changing room she felt a hand against the small of her back. Before she could say a word the dress was back off, and she braced herself against the mirror as she watched and shuddered.

Elle blinked, and the girl was gone. She pulled the dress on and left, her old clothes strewn about.

\--

When Elle was twenty-one years old, she celebrated her legal adulthood by performing her first hit. She had grown sharp and quiet, slithering into back rooms and basement meetings, learning the language of the underworld. Her stoic brow and inability to flinch had served her well, and many had grown to trust her. That night, Elle strode straight toward the elevator and past the doorman, up to the twenty-eighth floor, and into the man's loft.

Elle hated guns. She sank her knife into the man's chest before he could speak, and artfully arranged his body on his white sofa.

\--

When Elle was twenty-four years old, she met Bill. She was mingling at a party when she felt an arm slip around her waist, and turned to see a man motioning her into the hall with him. She followed, and they quickly left the house, eventually ending up sitting in a car with the man behind the wheel. Elle took this in stride - when in doubt, do not ask questions. The man looked at her for a long time.

"I'm Bill," he said. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small picture. "And these are my D.I.V.A.S."

\--

When Elle was twenty-six years old, she fucked Beatrix Kiddo. Or, to be more precise, Beatrix Kiddo fucked her. They had stayed late in the dojo to work with their swords, slicing the air and spinning around each other. "So, you and Bill, is that true?" Elle asked, dropping her sword arm.

Only after they were both naked and soaked in sweat, their backs and arms riddled with half-moon fingernail marks and bruises, did Beatrix answer.

"Does it fucking matter?" she said, licking the blood from Elle's stomach.

\--

When Elle was twenty-seven years old, Beatrix Kiddo disappeared. All other assignments were cancelled, and Bill flew into an uncharacteristic frenzy that left the D.I.V.A.S. hesitant to even speak to him. Elle didn't fucking care. People came and went, especially in the life she had chosen. She could die within the coming year, perhaps that very night, their carefully-placed trail suddenly fraying. To harden your heart was the only way to survive, and Elle was fairly sure she didn't have a heart to harden in the first place.

But Bill cared. And that made Elle furious.

\--

When Elle was thirty years old, she lost her right eye. She had gone to Pai Mei to finish her training, to hone her skills and become a true fighter. But the notoriously critical teacher was even more unyielding, because Elle could never measure up to the strength and speed of Beatrix Kiddo. Her knuckles bled and she vomited her few mouthfuls of rice, and still Pai Mei shook his head, striking her on the back.

With one fluid movement, Pai Mei plucked out her eye. And with one calculated movement, Elle poisoned Pai Mei, laughing as he died.

\--

When Elle was thirty-two years old, she lost her left eye. Beatrix had come back from the dead, and Elle wanted nothing more than to push her back into that grave herself. But just like smoke or water, Beatrix slipped out from between her fingers, and Elle's carefully crafted facade of coldness fell. And when the opportunity came to run Beatrix cleanly through with a sword (a Hanzo sword, no less), Elle failed.

As she scrabbled about on the filthy floor, screaming in agony, the only thing she could remember was a tongue on her stomach and a hand on her thigh.

\--

When Elle was thirty-two years old, she died.

\--

 


End file.
